Melting point
by ThreeMagpies
Summary: A Revolution fic (Blackout AU): Sebastian (Bass) Monroe/Charlotte (Charlie) Matheson, Charloe. Rating M. A Charloe road trip Halloween chill fic. On the road to Willoughby, a couple of weeks after Pottsboro, Monroe and Charlie find what looks like just another empty windblown, dusty town. Without expecting too much they head in looking for supplies. What do they find? Well...
1. Chapter 1

**Melting point.**

A Revolution fic (Blackout AU): Sebastian (Bass) Monroe/Charlotte (Charlie) Matheson, Charloe. Rating M. A Charloe road trip Halloween chill fic – it's a little early but hey, why not? On the road to Willoughby, a couple of weeks after Pottsboro, Monroe and Charlie find what looks like just another empty windblown, dusty town. Without expecting too much they head in, looking for necessary supplies. What do they find? Well…

AN: I keep thinking I don't have any more Charloe stories in me, but then something happens (like reading great new stories from LoveForTheStory and LemonSupreme) and I'm off again lol. I don't know how many Charloe people are still reading out there but this is for you, hope you enjoy. Xx Magpie

….

Charlie kicked at the dusty sidewalk, sending an old can flying with a hollow clunk and clatter that sent echoes bouncing across the wide street and along the red brick facades and tattered tumbleweed glory of the old wild west tourist town.

Monroe slid her a hard, blue edged glance, 'Cut it out, Charlotte. Don't know who's around. We gotta be smart, scope it out.' He went back to scanning the road, knuckles flaring white, grip tightening around the hilt of his sword as he strode along, somehow silent despite his height and lithe, hard muscled frame.

She shrugged, and kicked another one just to bug him, although she didn't put as much muscle into it. 'Why bother?' She waved a hand at the street in general. 'Just look at this place, no one's been around here since the blackout.' Her gaze flicked from one side of the street to the other then turned to glare up at him, her long, dirty blond hair swaying. 'Maybe even before that. It's just a creepy ghost town.'

He shook his head, 'I thought Miles would've taught you better than that.'

'Miles was too busy worrying about my mom to teach me anything, besides, I didn't need him, I learned enough on my own.' Charlie huffed, shucked out of her jacket as she walked and swung it around her hips, tying the sleeves together into a quick knot with slim, strong fingers. 'I'm hungry, it's getting hot and I think we're wasting our time in this stupid town. Anything useable is gonna be junk or long gone.' She glanced up at him, eyes slitted against the light, part of her mind noting how the sun caught his scruff, picking out little curling hairs like shiny gold… Damn. She squashed the thought and focused back on the moment. 'I saw some deer sign back in the woods, I could be hunting us some food.'

Monroe threw her a glance. 'This is the first town we've come across in four days, it makes sense to stick together until we've had a look around. And it's too damn quiet, I don't like it, there should be birds and a stray cat or two maybe but there's nothing.' He kept walking, on alert. 'And we went through this back in camp, remember? I need some leather to patch the harness and a couple of wheels and some oil for the wagon or we're gonna be walking the rest of the way to Willoughby.' He slanted her another hard look and stopped, putting a hand out to stop her too. 'Or is that what you want?'

She stared up at him for a long moment, every nerve in her body aware of his hand heavy on her shoulder, his thumb moving in tiny circles and sliding over the smooth, warm skin and slender bones underneath almost as if it had a mind of its own. He was too big, too close but somehow not close enough, the scent of him enveloping her in spicy male sweat, old leather, hot metal and something else, something heady that made her breath catch and her head spin while the blown dark indigo blue of his eyes burned a hot trail from her lips to her toes and back again. Sucking in a breath and mentally kicking her own ass for being stupid to the max, because damn, feeling like this about Monroe was that stupid, she put on a smirk and slid away, her eyes glinting as his fingers clung to her skin. 'What's the matter, General, afraid of a little exercise?'

He choked out a ragged laugh and let his hand fall. The tension that had been growing between them since she fell into that pool and back into his life like a gift from whatever gods were currently laughing at him sizzled like a fire in his gut. For all sorts of reasons, she had burrowed under his skin and into his increasingly wet dreams and there was no way he could resist pushing it further. He leaned in close, his voice a mocking, honeyed whisper. 'Not if it's the right kind of exercise, Charlotte'.

Her smirk faltered and she got lost in his gaze for a long, long moment, the air between them grown thick and sultry with more heat than the heavy summer sun beating down on her head, her whole body flushed and wanting more of this, more of him. Then in a flash of searing reality she remembered again just who it was she was getting hot and heavy with and broke away, turning on her heel and stalking off, back straight and hips swaying with every step. When he didn't follow she slanted a narrow eyed glance back over her shoulder. 'Town centre's this way, are you coming or not?'

Distracted and bemused, he watched her, trying to think of a good answer, his eyes lingering on the taut denim covered curves of her ass, the corners of his mouth twitching in a mixture of amusement, irritation and something that was totally carnal. Then he choked off another laugh and started after her.

Behind the clouded, dirty glass of the bow window of the shop they'd just passed, the tattered lace curtains fluttered.

…

'Hey, I think there's a saddle shop up ahead, past that old theatre,' Charlie pointed across the road, then her eyes widened and she darted back under the shadowed awning of the building behind them, her knife raised ready. 'What the hell? There's a guy in a white suit standing outside the old place.' She frowned, confused, taking another look, 'and what's wrong with the woman with him? Why aren't they moving?'

Monroe stayed where he was and shrugged. 'Stand down, Charlotte, they're not real.' He pointed at the broken neon sign above the pillared entrance to the theatre. 'See? It's a Madame Tussaud's show, they'll have more statues of famous people inside, all of them made out of wax.' His lips twisted in a wry grin, 'People used to pay money to go take selfies with them.' He pointed at the male figure, 'that one's Elvis Presley, he was a famous singer.' He leaned forward, squinting a little, 'the other one's a movie star called Marilyn Monroe, although she's missing a few parts.' His eyes slid to Charlie, sly. 'Maybe the crow babies thought her tits looked tasty.'

Charlie made a face. 'Ew…'

He glanced up and down the road, took another look at the theatre and quirked an eyebrow. 'You want to go have a look at some pre-blackout rich and famous faces before we check out the saddle shop?' His grin turned into something genuine, 'it used to be a fun thing to do.'

She looked him up and down. 'Wow, those must be some good memories, you're practically skipping. What happened to "it's too damn quiet"?'

'Nothing's happened to us yet so I guess I was wrong.' He shrugged and the grin softened into a smile. It made him look younger, almost boyish, the dirt etched lines on his face smoothing out. 'And yeah, they're good, my parents took me and my sisters to Madam Tussaud's in Washington once and I remember my mom was so excited about getting a photo with Elvis that she couldn't stop talking about it and while she was with him and my sisters were going all gooey eyed over some boy band, me and my dad were in the civil war section with Abraham Lincoln.' His eyes drifted to the Elvis figure, 'this is a blast from the past for me, babe.'

'Babe?' She made a face. 'Really?' Although she was actually trying to ignore the effect that amazing smile was having on her heartbeat, trying to ignore the fact that he had had sisters and parents, that he actually used to be human? Damn it, he was a lying, murdering son of a bitch who'd only saved her life back in that bar so she could take him to Miles, but that didn't seem to matter, being with him was starting to feel like she was downing one shot of whiskey after another and firing up a burn in her belly that just wouldn't quit, it was crazy. She sheathed her knife. 'I don't know… Maybe?' She had to admit to being curious. 'But I thought we were being all alert and ready for anything?'

A light brown eyebrow lifted and he stroked his sword hilt, smile turning to insinuation. 'I'm always ready, Charlotte.'

Okay, she'd walked right into that one. She returned the eyebrow and raised him a smirk. 'Really? Then how come you ended up in that pool?'

He held her gaze and backed out into the sunshine onto the dusty road, teasing her with those blue, blue eyes, 'as I recall you ended up in there with me, and now we're travelling together to find your family. Go figure.' His smile widened, challenge lurking behind it like a sweet temptation, 'but like you said, this is a ghost town, I think we've got time to be tourists.'

She shrugged, damn it and damn him. Everything about him was a challenge she couldn't seem to turn down. 'Ok, I guess I could stand seeing what you old time folks made such a fuss about.'

He strode off across the street. 'Not so old, Charlotte. And It'll be fun, I promise.'

She followed him, wiping sweat off her cheek with the back of her hand. Why did he have to be so fucking hot? Why couldn't he be fat, or even look old and have no teeth. She lengthened her stride to keep up. 'So what did tourists do?'

…..

On the road behind them something moved. Keeping to the sidewalk shadows, a darker shadow slid silent from wall to window, pillar to alley, from cover to cover.

…..

Up close, faded red, white and blue paint was peeling like sunburnt skin off the Queen Theatre's high, stuccoed walls and moth eaten posters for forgotten plays and shows could be seen displayed in mouldy, fly spotted frames in plaster panels leading in to the wide double front wooden and glass doors. 'Madame Tussaud's Kings and Queens of Cinema' was advertised on a tattered but still readable neon banner just above the doors.

Monroe stopped in front of Elvis and reached out to pat the cracked and dirty white vinyl and plastic diamante covered shoulder raising clouds of dust that puffed up into the air. He coughed, looked the statue up and down and shrugged. 'Well, I gotta say he looked better back in Washington.' Elvis' black, real hair wig was patchy and faded on top to a dirty yellow grey, the smile was chipped and the white suit had definitely seen better days.

Charlie sneezed and stepped back, waving dust fragments away, disgust wrinkling her nose. 'He looks like he's been chewed on by a bear, why would anyone in their right mind pay to see him?'

'Because back then he was the king of rock and roll.' Monroe shook his head sadly as he brushed a cobweb off the famous face, 'at least the bugs still like him.'

Charlie had moved on to Marilyn, although she was careful not to touch. 'This one's even worse.'

The model's dress was hanging in faded rags around her waist, she was missing the tips of both perky breasts, the end of her nose, the tips of her ears and several fingers and what remained of her skin was so wind and sun burned that it was pitted like a moonscape. Her full skirt, the material stiff with wax and plaster and blown up by a phantom burst of wind didn't really have much left to reveal with the backs of both legs worn almost down to the steel frames underneath. Her high heel shoes were still attached to the metal stand though and her eyes were still blue, her full pout red and her teeth still white if you squinted.

Monroe walked up next to her, a hand reaching out towards Marilyn's scarecrow platinum wig. 'It's sad really. She was one of the most beautiful women in the world, a movie star and a sex symbol. People loved her.'

'A sex symbol? What the hell's that? And don't touch it,' Charlie stepped back, 'it's disgusting and I'm still coughing up bits of Elvis.'

Monroe looked pensive, his fingers stroking an outline in the air of Marilyn's face. 'People made kings and queens out of other people back then, even if that wasn't what they wanted to be. Still do I guess.'

'You're doing that thing again. Stop it.'

'What thing?'

'That wet thing with your eyes.' Charlie shook her head and brushed her hands off. 'This is ridiculous, I don't want to see any more shitty statues. Let's go find the stuff we need and get out of here.' She swung around to leave.

Just as she moved an arrow whizzed past her cheek and landed with a bullseye twang right between Marilyn's laughing eyes.

…

Hi and thanks so much for having a look, hope you liked it. I love that early part of the road trip when Bass and Charlie would've got to know each other, learned to work together, trust each other (maybe) and more, much, much more and I somehow keep going back to it… This is another version of what might have happened on the way to Willoughby. I'll have the next part up as soon as I can finish it, hope to see you there. Cheers and remember, Halloween is coming, xx Magpie


	2. Chapter 2

**Melting point.**

A Revolution fic (Blackout AU): Sebastian (Bass) Monroe/Charlotte (Charlie) Matheson, Charloe. Rating M. A Charloe road trip Halloween chill fic – it's a little early but hey, why not?

On the road to Willoughby, a couple of weeks after Pottsboro, Monroe and Charlie find what looks like just another empty windblown, dusty town. Without expecting too much they head in looking for necessary supplies. What do they find? Well…

AN: Thanks for some lovely comments and for coming back, Xx Magpie

…

Charlie felt the arrow pass, way, way too close and was already on her way down when Monroe moved so fast he was a blur and the next thing she knew she was flat on her back, her breath gone in a whoosh and his body hard and heavy on hers.

Way too heavy. For a moment she thought he'd been hit, that he was hurt, maybe even dead and it felt like the all the color had fallen out of the world which was just so stupid she couldn't believe she was thinking it… Then she felt him shift, his head lifting a little and relief flooded through her like a warm tide although the movement made the rest of him even heavier. But then she couldn't breathe, couldn't move, there were stones digging into her ass and her back and she panicked, couldn't help it, her arms shoving at him, legs kicking out. 'Monroe. Fuck it. Get OFF me.'

'Charlie, keep still and shut up.' His voice was a harsh whisper somewhere above her ear, 'I'm trying to get a lock on the shooter.'

She couldn't see out because her nose was buried in his chest but she felt him change position as he looked around. She managed to keep her voice down this time. 'It had to come from across the street. Can you see anything?'

'No.' He moved again, 'I thought I saw… something, but it's gone now, could be anywhere.'

Now her nose was in his armpit. That was so not good. She squirmed around so she could breathe some free air, trying to see out. 'You really need to wash this shirt, Monroe.'

He chuckled, 'Charlotte, believe me, you don't smell much like roses either. Lucky you look good anyway.' Rifle in one hand, he raised himself up a little using the other arm, muscles bunching as he took the weight. 'We need to move. I'll take Elvis, you can have Marilyn.'

He thought she looked good? She had to hide her reaction to that little bit of information under another smirk. 'You're bigger, and Marilyn's all spread out nice and wide. I'll take Elvis.'

He stared down at her, his eyes full of blue amusement and lips way too close, his breath hot on her face. 'You do know how weird that sounds, don't you?'

She stared back at him, getting lost in those eyes and it was hard to think of anything smart to say back because his body on hers was way too distracting and the sound of her pulse thudding in her ears was so loud she almost couldn't hear anything else. Then she remembered with a thud of reality that someone had shot an arrow at them. She broke away from that gaze, peered over his shoulder at Marilyn's face and stared. 'What the hell?'

He grunted, cautiously crab-crawling off her, one armed. 'Yeah, the arrow's gone. Also weird.'

She was almost too occupied keeping her wits together to answer as his hips and long legs slid over hers along with something long and firm between them that had to be his…but she absolutely definitely wasn't going to think about that. She cleared her throat, hoping her voice didn't sound as flustered as she felt. 'But the hole's still there.'

'Yeah, so I'm pretty sure that whoever's shooting disappearing arrows can actually kill us.'

He glanced down at her, one leg still lying snug between hers, way too close for comfort, and his eyes gleaming with something reckless and totally inappropriate in the circumstances. His knee was pressed against her thigh, edging up, a little at a time, stroking. 'Got any last requests, Charlotte?'

Okay. There was no way she was buying into that one. She mentally squashed the parts of her that were loudly proclaiming that yes, they had a lot of requests and put on her best and brightest smile. 'What if you stand up so he can see you better?'

He laughed, his teeth very white and it was the laugh from the pool, mocking and admiring at the same time. 'Hey, he could be a she, and I thought you wanted the pleasure of killing me all to yourself?' He rolled off her and up onto his knees, eyes on the street, wary, rifle ready and braced against his hip.

She managed a full breath, 'I do, but if someone else is offering, why pass it up?'

He put his free hand out to help her up, 'I hate to put a dampener on your plans for me, but that arrow was aimed at you.'

She'd been thinking the same thing but agreeing with Monroe wasn't at the top of her bucket list. Ignoring the hand she got up to a crouch, looking around. Then she froze, breath catching in her throat. Behind Marilyn was an empty space that should have been occupied by... 'Hey, where's Elvis?'

'What?' Monroe frowned, his eyes darting round to where the King had been. They widened. 'You have got to be kidding me.' His hands tightened on the rifle and he was suddenly all soldier, scanning the street, the lines of his face taut, focused. 'There's something really fucking wrong with this town.'

'You think?' Charlie spared him a look and with her fingers itching for her lost bow, she took the handgun they'd found in the wagon from her belt and moved so she was covering the one eighty he wasn't. On the way, her arm brushed his sending goose bumps skittering up and down her spine and curling her toes. She ignored it, focused on the job and ended up facing the theatre, feeling seriously freaked because he was right, there was something really strange going on. Head turning from one side to the other, she watched for something, anything to shoot at, her body tight with tension. 'You were the one who said we had to come. I wanted to go hunting.' Her voice sounded loud, way too loud. Her words echoing up and down the street.

'Remind me to listen next time. Wait, I see something.' He swung the gun around to the right and fired once, twice. 'Damn, this is seriously crazy.' He sounded puzzled.

'What is it?' Charlie didn't dare turn around in case Elvis decided to come back. She was keeping an eye on Marilyn too, although nothing had happened there, yet.

'I think it's Princess Merida'

'What?'

'She's from a kid's movie just before the blackout, I know that because one of the guys in my unit bought the doll for his kid, showed it around the camp like it was something really special.'

'I know who she is. I remember. I loved that movie.' Charlie scrambled around, trying to see everywhere at once. 'You can't shoot Princess Merida, Monroe.'

He shot her a look, confused. 'Why not? She's a fucking cartoon. And she shot at us first.'

'Because she is sp..' She broke off at the sight of Elvis lumbering towards her, arms held straight out in front of him, gloved hands reaching out, dust rising from the white suit and catching the sunlight like a really strange halo. 'Er, Monroe?'

'I see him. Marilyn's twitching too, your precious Princess Merida is right across the road taking aim and there's something banging on the doors of the theatre. From the inside.' He shook his head. 'I think we'd better get out of here, Charlie, I don't know how to fight this.'

'But… how is this even happening?' She couldn't move, shock and disbelief disconnecting her brain from her legs.

He bumped her with his shoulder, knocking her into action, urgency making his voice harsh. 'Don't know. Run.' He turned and fired at Elvis, the bullet hitting the dingy white diamante'd jacket and going straight through, sending fountains of wax, fabric and padding bursting into the air.

Elvis staggered but kept coming, still smiling, a fist sized hole still smoking in his chest and daylight showing through it.

'Shit.' Charlie stared then finally got it together enough to run although it turned into a kind of sideways shuffle because she was trying to look backwards at the same time. Then an arrow whizzed past her head, ruffling her hair. She spun round and caught a glimpse across the road of a figure in a long green dress standing straight and tall with a pale face hidden under a mass of red, really curly hair that was flying in the wind, one small pink hand pulling back the string of a longbow.

Charlie's jaw dropped. It really was her childhood hero, and the cartoon princess was just about to fire again. She turned to Monroe, her head spinning, 'What the hell's going on?'

'Damned if I know, but get moving.' Monroe fired again, this time aiming at Marilyn who was somehow skating towards them, tattered arms still holding her skirt down at the front, legs moving her forward in a side to side motion that was totally unnerving.

The shot sent Marilyn reeling, her head drooping to the side and hanging on by a thin strip of wax and fabric but somehow the model righted itself and kept on coming, faster this time, closely followed by Elvis, the smile turned into a horror show leer.

Then as if to top everything else, the doors of the theatre burst open and what looked like a horde of strangely dressed and very dusty people came tumbling out, walking stiff but fast and all of them heading their way, eyes staring and glassy, arms stretched out in front, fingers like claws...

Charlie ran.

…..

They were way out of town and almost back to the wagon when Monroe finally slowed down then stopped, breathing hard. He turned and looked back, bent over with one hand resting on a knee, the other holding his rifle at the ready. 'I think we lost them.' The words sounded, hoarse, scratchy.

Charlie was panting too and damning Monroe's longer legs. It'd been hard keeping up but she'd done it. 'I hope so. That was completely insane.' She kept seeing Elvis coming towards her, his arms stretched out and his eyes staring and as for Princess Merida? The red head was totally off Charlie's favorite memory list. Sleep was probably going to off the list too for the next few nights at a minimum. Maybe she'd never sleep again.

Monroe glanced at her then back at the road, looking pissed and still slightly freaked out. 'Yeah. But we still need leather and wheels.'

She nodded, knuckles white on her gun grip. 'I know, but you couldn't pay me enough diamonds to go back there.' She glared at him, 'and the next time we find a town? I want people, real people, lots of them, or we're not going.'

'You're not getting any argument from me.' Monroe straightened up and looked around, they were near a crossroads with woods off to the left and cleared land in the other direction. He tipped his gun barrel towards the road heading off to their right. 'Looks like there's a farm over that way, we could try there.'

Charlie checked it out. There was a farm house off in the distance, with a barn and hay piled in stacks. Cows, sheep and a few horses grazed in the fields. 'It looks ok, I guess, but so did the town at first and if they so much as have a picture of Elvis I'm out of there.' Her heartbeat had slowed down although little skitters of panic kept running along her spine. She'd seen a lot of strange shit in her time, but that had been.. well, not something she felt like repeating. '

'I'll get the wagon,' Monroe turned to walk off to where they'd left it.

'Wait, I'm coming with you.' She almost ran to catch up. Alone wasn't something she wanted to be right now. Now or anytime soon.

…

The farm looked innocent enough, an old but tidy square stone farmhouse surrounded by a wide, white lace, pillared verandah that looked shady and inviting, the whole framed by big old oaks that cast more dappled shade over the house and wide lawns. A few chickens scratched in the bushes and vines next to the house and a stone barn was set off to the side, with a big water tank set up on stilts next to it.

As they pulled up in front of the house, two black and white dogs leaped down the verandah steps barking, running in big, excited circles around the wagon and spooking the horses until a voice from inside called out and told them to quit.

Monroe pulled the two snorting bays up and got down to hold their heads while Charlie held the rifle ready, just in case.

The gabled front door opened and a man came out. Slightly bent over, hair and square cut beard grey and dressed in old fashioned denim overalls and blue shirt, he had the same strong and weathered look as the oaks behind the house. A slim woman followed him wearing jeans and a white shirt. Her long grey white hair hung in a thick plait over one shoulder with the stock of a heavy gauge shotgun braced on the other, the barrel aimed at Monroe, straight, level and true.

That was something Charlie could deal with.

…..

A few carefully edited explanations later, she and Monroe were sitting at the big table in the farm's airy kitchen drinking herbal tea while their hostess ladled stew from a big pot hanging over the fire into bowls for their lunch.

'You actually went into town?' The old man peered at them over the rimless glasses perched on the end of his nose. 'Right in?'

Monroe quirked an eyebrow and sipped his tea.

Charlie frowned at him for leaving things up to her, then smiled at the farmer and answered for them both. 'Yes we did, why?'

The grizzled head swung from her to Monroe and back again, amused, 'well, I'd say you were lucky to get out in one piece. No one goes there, not any more. Not since the surge.' His eyes narrowed as if daring them to disagree. 'Damn place is haunted.'

…

A couple of hours later they were on the road again with the leather straps and spare wheels they needed stacked in the back of the wagon along with a few other welcome supplies bought with some of the diamonds they'd found stashed in the wagon.

Charlie twisted round and looked back at the farm and the town beyond it off in the distance. 'It's been months since the surge. They should put a sign up warning people to stay away.'

Monroe shrugged, 'maybe they don't get many visitors.'

'Maybe they do but the visitors go in and don't come out again?' She shuddered, 'maybe they end up getting chewed on by those things. Or worse.' She couldn't actually think of anything worse than that, but there was always something.

He shrugged again, and clicked the horses on. 'Not our problem.'

She looked at him.

He ran a hand through his dusty curls, sighed and pulled the horses up. 'Ok. There's some black paint in back, I guess we can write something on the sign at the turn off.' He turned the wagon and started heading back to the crossroads, glancing at her. 'Will that make you happy, Charlotte?'

'It's a start.' Her dimple flashed. This trip was teaching her a whole lot about Sebastian Monroe. 'It'll make me even happier if you find us a river so we can get clean.'

He grinned at that, his eyes meeting hers, the blue gaze full of something that sent ripples of excitement and expectation sizzling from her scalp to her toes.

'One river coming up.'

….

Charlie had just finished painting 'Danger, keep out,' in large, black letters over the rusty, faded to illegible welcome sign at the corner of the road leading to the haunted town, when a harsh caw came from the trees above them. She glanced up, spied something big and black. 'That's a big crow.'

Monroe had a look then went back to checking the harness. 'yeah, except it's a raven.' He patted a broad, bay rump, 'this'll be ok for a few more miles, but I'll fix it properly tonight.'

'Didn't think there were ravens this far north.' Charlie frowned, studying the bird. It seemed to be looking straight back at her. Her spine prickled. 'And have you heard of ravens having green eyes? I mean really bright, sparkly green?'

'No, far as I know their eyes are black.' He looked up again, but the bird had gone.

…

AN: Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it – I love spooky stories so there might be another one or two… hope to see you there, cheers, Magpie


	3. Chapter 3

**Melting point.**

A Revolution fic (Blackout AU): Sebastian (Bass) Monroe/Charlotte (Charlie) Matheson, Charloe. Rating M. A Charloe road trip Halloween chill fic – it's a little early but hey, why not?

On the road to Willoughby, a couple of weeks after Pottsboro, Monroe and Charlie find what looks like just another empty windblown, dusty town. Without expecting too much they head in looking for necessary supplies. What do they find? Well…

AN: Thanks for some lovely encouragement, there did seem to be a bit more to tell lol, so here it is… Xx Magpie

…

A couple of miles down the road after they'd wound their way past fallen branches, a few major potholes and a rusted out school bus long stripped of anything useful, Charlie turned away from gazing at the woods and mostly empty fields stretching away into the distance. Staring at the road ahead instead, she chewed a fingernail, sucked in a breath and let it out through full, pursed lips then cleared her throat. 'Er… Monroe?'

He sighed, closed his eyes and opened them again, the sun dappled shadows from above making the blue electric bright. 'Yes Charlotte?'

'We have to go back.'

Monroe shook his head. 'No. We don't.' He flicked the horses on, looking straight ahead, eyes narrowed against the afternoon sun. 'We're finding a river to get clean in, remember? That's what you wanted to do.'

'If the surge made it happen, that makes it our fault.'

His lips tightened. 'Not mine. Not yours either. It was your mom and her computer guy.'

'You were the one took Randall Flynn to the Tower, you said it yourself.'

He pulled the horses up and turned to face her. 'That was about the fucking bombs. You said the weird lightening shit happened when your mom and that guy turned the power off again. I had nothing to do with that.'

'You had everything to do with it,' she spat it out, anger and memory making her voice harsh. 'They were trying to stop the bombs going off, but If you hadn't wanted all the power for yourself, none of us would've gone to the Tower in the first place.'

'Bullshit, your mom had her own agenda the whole fucking time.' He took one hand off the reins and pointed a stabbing finger back along the road. 'And all we have is the word of one maybe crazy old man that the weird waxwork crap started after the surge.'

'It wasn't just him. What about his wife?' Charlie protested.

He leaned closer, balanced half off the seat, not caring. 'She didn't believe him either, she rolled her eyes while he was talking about it.'

'No she didn't.'

'Yes. She. Did.'

Charlie shrugged but didn't budge an inch, her lips an inch from his. 'Ok. Maybe she did, but it was when he was telling us he got chased by the big time robot guy.' Her tongue dipped out to run over her bottom lip.

They were almost, almost touching now, tension rising like a storm.

'Terminator. He said it was the Term…Arnold…' The wagon jerked and Monroe nearly fell, grabbing for the backboard to hold on. 'Damn it...'

The horses, tired of being ignored were pulling the wagon off towards the grass in the ditch at the edge of the road.

Monroe swung back to take them in hand with a grunt of effort, biceps bulging, glancing at her with a mix of anger, amusement and something totally, vitally male. 'You're worse than Miles, d'you know that? And that's saying something.' He pulled the horses up, turned the wagon around and started heading them back down the road. 'Ok. We'll go take care of the scary dummies first or you'll go try to do it yourself and I'll have to come back and rescue you again.' His eyes narrowed, the blue heat of them settling on her lips, trailing down over the swell of her breasts and searing a path back up. 'Then we go find that river. Alright?'

Charlie swallowed, her cheeks flushed and heart pounding. Somehow he knew she'd been planning to go on her own if he said no, and that he said he'd come back for her if she did meant more than she would have believed possible just a few weeks ago. Then there was the crazy attraction thing between them.

He wanted her, she knew that.

She wanted him too, didn't know what that meant, didn't care.

'Yeah, we'll find it.' She matched his gaze with one of her own, tracing the lines of his face down to the muscles of his throat, his chest, and lower to the flat stomach and long, strong thighs, then back up to his arms, taking her time and lingering on the muscles rippling there as he handled the reins.

He laughed low in his throat, the sound somehow vibrating along the seat and straight to her ass.

Heat sizzled up and down her spine, making her wet and almost, almost ready to give up doing the right thing and find that river right, fucking now, although frankly she didn't give a flying crap about getting clean first at this point in time. Taking a deep breath she swung one leg over the other, thighs clenched tight, wondering if he knew how hard it was for her not to just jump his bones and to hell with anything else.

Of course he did.

She decided to ignore the smug smile and simmering satisfaction on his face and settled back against the bench, arms stretched out as though nothing had happened, her own smile bright. 'Knew you'd see it my way.'

He chuckled and flicked the horses on.

…

'Okay, so we've got a town full of waxy Hollywood types who can shoot real arrows, move very fucking fast even when they've had their heads nearly shot off and are probably hungry for brains. Oh and there's only two of us.' Monroe pulled the horses up at the crossroads and turned to Charlie. 'What's the plan?'

Staring down the road to town, Charlie thought it looked peaceful and kind of innocent in the dusty gold afternoon air, not haunted at all. 'I'm working on it.' She had to ask though, couldn't help it. 'What would Miles do?'

He looked at her, lips twitching. 'He wouldn't have come back. This is way too much crazy train for Miles.'

She choked off a laugh because he was probably right. 'So what would you do then?'

He ran a hand through his dirty curls and rubbed the back of his neck, stretching. 'Well, since you ask so nicely. They're mostly wax aren't they? Kind of like big candles?'

She nodded, looking at him with new respect. 'Yeah, they are. So all we need is…'

He grinned. 'Something to light 'em up.'

…

Charlie didn't remember the old gas station sitting on its own just past the crossroads on the way in last time, but then she hadn't been looking. It was still a way out of town with no other buildings around to speak of but she was keeping a close watch on the road anyway just in case. Princess Merida had moved scarily fast. She secured the wagon and tethered the horses on the grass under the trees on the other side of the road then walked over to join Monroe. 'Do you think there's anything left?'

Monroe looked up from where he was examining the bowsers. 'Looks like this one's still sealed off so there might still be some gas in the underground tank, we just have to siphon it out.' He looked around. 'There has to be something round here? ' A grin spread over his face as his eyes fell on a tarp shrouded shape in the workshop. 'Oh yeah, that'll do.'

…..

'Pump the handle and gas shoots out like a big fountain over the escapees from the house of horrors, then fire a bullet into the middle and the whole bunch of crazies lights up like a birthday cake. Smart, even if I say so myself.' It had only taken him about half an hour to get something workable together and Monroe was looking impossibly smug.

'I'm impressed.' And she really was, kind of, although she was careful not to show it too much. The thing looked flimsy and the jerry cans of gasoline balanced precariously on the rusty mechanics trolley stunk worse than goat piss. Hoses from the bowsers were tied to the pump and the cans with rope and some tape they'd found in the shop and she wasn't quite sure how they were supposed to hold the nozzles, work the pump and fire a shot as well. She glanced up at him. 'Shouldn't we test it first?'

He shook his head. 'Can't waste the fuel. It'll work when it needs to, trust me.' Suddenly serious, he leaned towards her. 'But when I tell you to run, you run.'

'Or what?' She sounded wary because she was.

He took the handle of the trolley, bumping her out of the way with his shoulder. 'Or we could end up on the barbecue with the dummies.'

'Oh.' She stared up at him.

He pushed the trolley down towards the road, looking back at her, little devils dancing a challenge in his eyes. 'What's the matter, Charlie. You wanted to do this. Are you gonna chicken out on me now?'

'No.' She sent him back narrowed eyes and a smirk, slid a couple more rounds into her jeans pockets and sauntered after him, striding past and bumping his hip on the way. 'I'll ride shotgun.'

…

High above them a big black bird wheeled and soared in slow, silent and deliberate circles over the town.

…

As the theatre came into sight, the hard edged, saturated colors and long shadows of afternoon made it look mysterious, eerie. Then she saw what was in front of it and Charlie stopped in her tracks. 'What the hell?'

'Looks like they've rolled out the red carpet for us.' Monroe pulled the trolley to a halt just behind her.

The sidewalk and part of the road in front of the theatre was crowded with a couple of dozen still figures, including Elvis and Princess Merida. It looked like someone had thrown a costume party.

Charlie frowned. 'They're not moving.' Her eyes flickered to Monroe then straight back again to Princess Merida, remembering the fleeting, dangerous shadow and the arrow that had almost found it's mark. But the red headed cartoon figure hadn't moved, nor had the others. 'They're just standing there, like…like statues.'

Monroe pushed the trolley with its deadly cargo up level with her. 'At least they're all in one place.' He leaned over and checked the tape holding the hoses to the jerry cans. 'Makes our job a bit easier.'

Suddenly there was a sound like wind through pines, a kind of rustling creak as the entire group of waxworks swung round as one to face them, their glassy eyes staring straight at Charlie and Monroe.

Charlie gasped, her jaw dropping. 'Holy crap.' She lifted the gun but didn't know what to aim at. 'Monroe? Do it. Do it now.'

'This place just gets better and better, doesn't it?' Monroe took a hose nozzle in each hand, 'don't take your eyes off them, fuck knows what they'll do next.' The hoses stretched as he aimed, almost coming loose. 'Damn it. This isn't going to reach. We need to get closer.'

Charlie's eyes widened. 'You've got to be kidding me.' She shoved the gun into her belt, ran round to the trolley handle and pushed hard, trying to keep an eye on the crowd of wax figures, the shops and shadows along the street as well as keeping the thing going straight ahead on the bitumen at the same time. 'You said it'd work.'

'It will.' He ran alongside, bent over, pumping with one hand, both hoses held tight in the other, thumb pressed over the nozzle triggers to cap them. 'But we need to be closer.'

Suddenly they were. Too close. A tall figure, his face half gone, cheekbone shining silver and a red light blinking in the metal eye socket was right in front of them, looming like some strange nightmare, others coming up behind him in a blur of movement, the sound of their feet on the road loud as an army, the faces eerie, human but not… their wide wax smiles false, obscene.

'Shit…' Charlie's eyes were wide with horror and she stopped pushing, dropping the trolley handle and aiming her gun, trying to keep it steady with her hands shaking. 'Monroe. Do something. NOW.'

'I am, get ready, and don't get any of this on you.' His foot pumping fast he took a hose in each hand, aiming at the approaching crowd, letting loose high golden streams that arced down on the heads of the approaching wax figures like rain. He glanced back at her, a wild, dark excitement in his eyes. 'Now, Charlie. Fire, then run like fuck.'

She stared at him for a long second, caught by those eyes, then tore herself away, aimed and fired fast at the robot thing, at Elvis and the Princess, at all of them until the gun was clicking empty.

Monroe pumped the last drops out of the tanks then shoved the trolley towards the oncoming crowd, caught Charlie's hand, pulling her away with him. 'Damn it, I told you to run. Come on, before it bl…'

The street exploded, pillars of flame and writhing black smoke rising high into the sky, the wax figures not burning caught by the others, the flames spreading like wildfire, raging.

Heat blasted out, hotter than the sun, Charlie felt it on her back as they ran up the road still holding hands, her fingers tangled in his. She glanced back over her shoulder, then up at him, a slightly hysterical laugh bubbling up from her chest. 'We did it, we actually did it.' Then she tripped on the kerb, nearly falling.

He grinned and pulled her up against him, setting her on her feet, his hair glinting red from the fire. 'Yeah, we did. Now keep running.'

She did, just keeping up, her breath coming hard and legs jelly although she'd never say it. Then she glanced back again, couldn't help it. There were lumps of burning stuff from one side of the street to the other, nothing was moving. 'But they're not… doing anything… they're just letting themselves… burn.'

'Don't care.' He kept going, but looked back for a brief glance, then his eyes met hers, little flames dancing in the blue. 'But I want us as far away from them as possible. Keep running, ok?'

She had no more breath to speak so just nodded and ran.

…..

Back at the wagon Charlie fell to her knees on the grass, then slumped forwards onto her belly, her breath coming in harsh, heaving gasps. The evening breeze was cool and the sweat drying on her skin made her shiver with cold and reaction.

Monroe dropped down on his back next to her, arms spread, breathing hard and laughing at the same time. 'Fuck. That was fun.'

The furnace heat of his big, male body was like a magnet and she wanted, needed to be closer to it. With an effort, she lifted herself up onto hands and knees and swung one leg over him, straddling his waist, her hair swinging in dirty ringlets around his shoulders and her hands falling onto his belly. She moved them to his hip bones and made her arms go rigid to hold her up. He felt really good between her legs, the heat of him radiating up her body and her lips curved as she gazed down at him. 'Yes it was.' She moved her hips, shifting down a little, finding the heavy shaft between his legs, rubbing herself on him, enjoying the feel of him, the anticipation of something more. 'Maybe we could do it again sometime.' She licked her lips, tasting lust and smoke, 'but I'd like to do something else first.'

He went still at first, blue eyes blazing up at her from a face streaked dark with soot, then his hands were on her, hard fingers gripping the cheeks of her ass, the rough skin of his thumbs finding the bare streak of flesh between her pants and her tank, stroking, circling. 'Thought you wanted to get cleaned up.'

She shivered with sensation, 'don't mind things a little dirty if it feels right.' Then she leaned forwards, mouth close to his, her breasts falling forward too, her nipples brushing his chest. 'What about you?'

He chuckled, eyes wicked, a hand leaving her ass to reach in behind, fingers working fast on his pants buttons. 'Dirty works fine for me.'

Charlie sat up, her own fingers working at her belt, wriggling her pants down to her boots as soon as she had room, then he was lifting her up and she was sliding down on him, so slick and wet that his thickness slipped in and spread her out wide like he was meant to be there. She flung her head back, spine arching, knees and thighs clamped to his sides, hands gripping his shirt, holding on and riding him like a bareback stallion, screaming to the stars above as she exploded into bright shiny pieces like Monroe's bomb…

…..

'So how could the surge make something like that even happen?' Charlie yawned, squinting in the morning sun and climbed up onto the wagon, wincing a little as her thighs and a few other body parts protested the movement. She wasn't complaining though, the aches were totally worth it, she just hoped Monroe hadn't noticed, he was smug enough already.

'Don't know.' Monroe climbed up beside her looking cool and relaxed in shirt sleeves. 'Hey, you can have my jacket if you want something to sit on.'

Damn. He'd noticed. She sent him a smirk. 'Only if you want me to throw it at you.'

He laughed, his teeth very white against his still dirty face. 'Fine. We'll go find a river then.'

She sat back and tried to get comfortable. Couldn't. The bench was hard on her ass and bounced her around at every single fucking hole in the road. And there were a whole lot of holes. She glanced at him. 'Monroe?'

He passed her the jacket without saying a word.

….

High above, a dark silhouette against cloudless blue, a winged black shape dipped once, then flew away, disappearing into the distance, a few little green sparks of light trailing after it like a comet's tail.

….

AN: Hi, thanks again and hope you enjoyed this. I love Bass and Charlie, and I love Halloween too – I had so much fun writing this that I might have to do another one lol. Anyway, hope to see you at another story, cheers and happy Halloween, Magpie xx


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